Built Upon Sand

Prologue. From Out of the Past.

The waiter showed me to my table in the hotel dining room. I ordered a glass of wine and then scanned the menu. As I made my decision about what to order the wine arrived. I sat back casually surveying my fellow diners, weighing up the possibilities. They were mostly elderly couples bent on spending their retirement money before the Grim Reaper cried "Sans everything."

I was in transit from the city to one of the areas where a very successful mining operation was underway to see that a construction of my design was being carried out according to plan. Having a few days in hand I had broken my journey at a beach resort. Perhaps I had chosen the wrong place or time of year to make the break because none of those in the hotel seemed to promise any interest or diversion for someone my age.

I was about to take the first sip of wine when suddenly my attention became riveted.

Amrah! She was sitting several tables away from mine. I sat staring, at first unable to believe the evidence of my eyes. After five years and all my vain searching, there she was looking just as lovely as she had that morning when we had said what I thought was a temporary goodbye at the airport.

After so many past disappointments in my hunt for her, at first I did not dare to believe it was her. I told myself that she was someone who looked like Amrah, but no; the dark complexion that looked like a sun tan, but as I came to know was her natural skin colour; the long raven black hair; the nose that was slightly longer than was fashionable in Australia; the more I stared the more I became convinced it was Amrah.

Her eyes that I had once found so captivating were turned away from me as she spoke to a small child sitting opposite her, so I couldn't see their intense blackness that I remembered so well. Her whole appearance was that of someone of Middle Eastern origin, and now, staring at her, in every fibre of my being I knew it must be her.

I felt the blood draining from my face and there was a buzzing noise in my head, and for a moment the world seemed to become unsteady..

"Are you ready to order sir?"

The waiter stood ready, and distractedly I managed to give my order.

For years I had sought her both in anger because she had deceived me – made a fool of me – and in love for her, the only woman I believed I had ever truly loved. Now here she was by pure chance, and I sat paralysed, unable to make a move.

Chapter 1.A Painful Memory.

As I sat there the memory of how we first met and what followed from that meeting began to play in my head like a reel of film.

I had completed my undergraduate degree in engineering, and was in the process of working for my doctorate, when I decided to give myself a break for a couple of weeks. The place I chose was a seaside town favoured mostly by well off sun seekers; not that I was well off, my accommodation being in a motel that was about the most economical it was possible to get in the town, and also some distance from the beach.

I had been there for almost a week when I met her. I was strolling along the beach one morning after taking a swim, when I came upon a woman struggling to erect a sun lounger under a beach umbrella. She was dressed – or undressed depending on your perspective - in only a brief bikini and she had a superb figure and had what at first I took to be a rich golden sun tanned complexion.

I approached her and asked, "Can I help you?"

She looked up at me with brilliant dark eyes, smiled and said, "I know it is supposed to be easy, but I just cannot get this thing to stand up." As I was later to learn, one reason why she could not cope with the lounger was that she had never had to put one up for herself. She came from a world in which servants performed such menial tasks for her.

Her voice was soft and low, and although her English was nigh on perfect, it was slightly accented and a little too precise for it to be her native language.

I don't wish to be overly romantic but I have to say that for me it was love at first sight; or perhaps more accurately it was lust at first sight, a lust that later became love. I thought I had never seen such a beautiful woman before, and when I had settled the lounger for her and she stretched out on it, the sight of her long elegant legs and the swell of her breasts under the scanty bikini top brought on an embarrassing erection that I had no way of hiding.

I noticed that she was looking at me intently, as if examining me in minute detail, and not bothering to hide her appraisal. I, having completed the task, was about to move on when she asked, "Do you live here or are you on holiday?"

"I'm just staying for a couple of weeks."

"Are you on your own?"

"Yes, I'm just giving myself a break from studies."

"Ah, and what are you studying?"

"Engineering."

"Yes, a difficult subject, is it not?"

"It is rather."

"I too am on my own; won't you join me for a while?"

I caught the flash of an engagement ring that had the biggest diamond I had ever seen surrounded by what looked like sapphires. Along with it was a thick gold wedding ring.

My immediate thought was, "If I was married to her I wouldn't let her out of my sight," but I said, "If you'd like me to."

She gave a throaty musical laugh and said, "I can promise you I would not have asked you if I did not want you to join me."

Blessing my luck I sat beside her on a striped beach towel, wondering why she had invited me and why she was on her own.

"Your husband isn't with you?" I asked.

She glanced down at her rings, smiled and said, "Yes, these do betray my marital status, do they not. No, my husband is not with me, I too am having a break, but not from studies, but it can get lonely, do you not find it so?"

"I suppose I don't mind being on my own at times," I replied.

"And this is one of those times, yet you sit with me?"

She had me stumped. What could I reply; that I found her so attractive that I couldn't resist her invitation? That the mere sight of her had given me an erection that she must have noticed since my shorts were no adequate concealment?

Trying to sound casual I replied, "It would have been rude to refuse your invitation."

"Ah, so, you sit with me merely to be polite. Polite is not honest; it is better that you be rude and say; 'No I do not want to sit with you.' Too many people are polite; I am surrounded by polite people who are only polite because they are paid to be. I do not pay you, so you do not need to be polite; be rude and go away."

Her bluntness shook me and I struggled to make a reply, finally saying, "I promise you I'm not just being polite, I thought you looked...looked... interesting and..."

"So, I am 'interesting'. I think you are still being polite – untruthful – and it is better you say, 'You are a very attractive woman, I am young, and therefore I wish to sit with you.' That is the truth, is it not?"

"Yes."

"And you do not wish to go away from me?"

"No."

"Good, then let it be so, and let us not be polite. Let us speak only what is in our hearts to say."

"Yes...yes of course."

"I am not going to be polite to you, so I tell you, I thought, 'This is a very handsome young man, he is kind and helpful, and I perceive that he finds me attractive, so I wish him to sit with me'. Does that give you pleasure?"

Again taken aback by her directness I replied, "Er...yes...yes...it does."

"Then let us see what more pleasure we can give each other."

"What did you have in mind?"

"While you enjoy looking at my face and body, you will tell me about your engineering. Why are you to be an engineer and what sort of an engineer. You see, I know that there are many sorts of engineers."

I spent the next fifteen minutes explaining why I had decided to be an engineer, and what branch of engineering I was specialising in.

When I finished she said thoughtfully, "Yes, it is good to have a profession, I sometimes wish I had one."

"You could always study to become a professional," I said.

"No, you see, if I did I would know more about something than my husband and he would not like that; he is a very proud man."

"And a bloody lucky one," I thought, mentally adding "and rich by the look of those rings,"

I said, "And you're here alone?"

"Yes, does that surprise you...yes, of course it does; many people wonder about that, especially men. But you see, my husband, he is always so busy he lets me have these times away from him; do you think that strange?"

I didn't know how to respond to that. I could hardly say, "If I was your husband I don't think I'd ever be out of your bed, let alone let you go off on your own."

As I paused trying to decide what to say she went on, "I must introduce myself; my name is Amrah Mustafic. Now you must tell me your name."

"Oh...er...I'm Anthony Essex...er...Tony."

"Tony...Tony," she spoke my name to sound like "Toony." "Yes, Tony, I like that name, but Essex, that is a place in England, is it not?"

"Yes, a county."

"And my name, do you like it?"

"Amrah; yes it's very beautiful."

"There, we like each others' names and we like to look at each other, you see how already we enjoy each other's company. But I have seen that you have been trying not to look at me while I have been quite openly looking at you."

"I thought you might not like me to stare at you."

"Now you see," she admonished, "you are being polite again and did we not agree we would not be polite with each other."

"Yes, but you see..."

"No...no, Tony Essex, it pleases me to look at you, so if it pleases you to look at me, then why do you not look?"

Again I was stumped for an answer. It was the most strange and forthright conversation I had ever had with anyone, especially a woman. As I struggled for words she once more came to my rescue.

"The day has grown hot Tony, let us go to my hotel and we can have a drink and talk some more until we can think of something further we can do – you would like that I think."

"Yes, Mrs. Mustafic, if you have the..."

"Mrs. Mustafic! You tell me you find my name beautiful and you do not speak it!"

"Sorry...er...Amrah."

"There...my name sounds beautiful on your lips. Names are like that; they can be beautiful or ugly according to the way they are spoken, do you not think?"

"Your name would always sound beautiful, Amrah, however it was spoken."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, sighed and said, "Not always, Tony, but it is enough now that you make it sound beautiful. Come, let us go and have that drink."

"Where are you staying?"

"At the Imperial Hotel."

The Imperial was the most expensive hotel in the place, so I protested, "I'm not dressed properly for the Imperial." That, I confess, was only an excuse. I was on a tight budget in those days and I knew the prices at the Imperial were astronomic. My thought was, "This woman might expect me to buy her drinks, even a meal, and I'd be broke before I knew it."

She laughed and said, "I have my beach coat with me, but see, I will not wear it. We will go to the hotel as we are and be served on the terrace. The women will look at you and desire to take you to their bed, and the men will look at me and desire to take me to their bed." Then as if divining my thoughts she went on, "It will please me to buy you a drink for your kindness in...what is the word...reconstructing my chair. That will give us both pleasure, will it not?"

I decided not to correct her use of the word, "reconstructing" and said, "Yes, I suppose it will."

"Do not suppose, Tony Essex, let us go and enjoy our time together."

Somewhat uncomfortably I went with her to the hotel. Its terrace was almost on the beach; in fact it simply flowed into the beach. As soon as we had sat down at one of the tables a white coated waiter came hurrying over.

"Can I get you something madam?" he asked with that odd mixture of hauteur and obsequiousness that waiters often affect.

"Yes, we will both have the special drink I instructed the barman how to prepare when I arrived, and put it onto my account."

"Yes, madam." He scuttled off at a near run.

"You see what it means to be rich Tony? Everyone is polite, but they are not honest. My husband thinks that everyone loves him; the servants, waiters; his accountant and solicitor...everyone, but I know they do not. Let him lose his money and then he would see how they hate him for making them humiliate themselves in his presence."

"But you, Amrah, you must love him."

For a moment she seemed to go into herself, lost in thought. When she spoke again it was in a measured tone.

"You surely understand Tony, it is possible to buy beauty and obedience, but you cannot buy love."

"Yes, I understand that, but..."

"It is better we do not speak of my husband, Tony, it will spoil the day for us, and together we can have a lovely day, do you not think?"

"You mean you want me to spend the day with you?"

"But certainly Tony Essex. From the moment I met you I said to myself, 'I would like to spend the day with that young man'." She looked at me closely and went on, "and do not pretend you do not want to spend the day with me."

The drinks arrived in long glasses containing an amber coloured liquid. When I tried it I found it delicious, but I could not relate it to anything I had ever tasted before.

"What is it," I asked.

Amrah laughed and said, "Ah, that is my secret recipe and non-alcoholic, but it has no name, so let us give it one. How about Amrah's...what is the word...concoction?"

"Yes," I replied, "concoction; I name this drink Amrah's Concoction'."

"You like Amrah's Concoction?"

"Yes."

"More than you like Amrah?"

I had begun to get used to her way of turning things around by then, so I said, "I didn't say that."

"You speak with two tongues, Tony Essex. Which do you like most, Amrah or her concoction?"

I played her own game and replied, "How could I like the concoction more than its creator?" I thought I'd answered rather cleverly.

She looked at me long and hard, then said, "If you like the creator more than the creation, then you would wish to come with her to her suite and fuck her?"

I was staggered by the bluntness of her suggestion, and not least because she could have chosen almost any man to join her in her room, and also because, despite her candour in making the invitation, I had not expected so slang a word as "fuck," from her.

There was a long pause between us. It was broken when Amrah said, "Tony, I think I have shocked you, but you must understand that from the first moment I saw you I thought I would like you to fuck me. I could see that you wanted to fuck me, as many men have wanted to, but it is you I desire. Will you not do as I wish?"

"But Amrah, your husband...?

"One day I may tell you of him, but as I have said, it is better you do not know of him now. If you truly desire me, then come with me to my suite."

"Amrah, I..."

"Come, I have chosen you from among the many, will you not forget politeness and fuck me?"

"Yes...yes, I'll...er...come to your suite."

"You do not sound very enthusiastic Tony; do you not like my body?"

"Yes...yes...it's beautiful, but I'm not used to...well you see it's usually the man who..."

"Asks the woman? Yes I know there is a form to these things, but that is only politeness, a game, and I do not wish to play games with you so I ask frankly; will you fuck me?"

Yes...yes."

"Good, then we will carry our drinks to my suite and you shall enjoy my body and I shall enjoy yours."

Bewildered and somewhat apprehensive I went with her. What did this woman really want? Was she in fact a high class prostitute who, once I had copulated with her, would demand payment, and if failed to pay, scream rape? Yet she had already indicated she understood my financial position, or had that been the bait that hooked the client?

Had she been less attractive and I had been stronger and less worked up over her, I might have refused her blatant offer, but I admit I was both mystified and fascinated by her. Her very forthrightness in word and now apparently deed, had me captivated. In a little over an hour she had cast her spell, and I was ensnared.

We took the lift to the top floor and entered her suite. I had heard of luxury hotel suites, but this was the first time I had ever entered one. It made my one room in the motel seem like a dilapidated ruin of no historic charm.

Amrah wasted no time. She said, "Come, we shall use the bedroom," and led me into a room whose primary décor was white. I just managed to take in the magnificent view from the huge window before Amrah, standing before me, removed the top of her bikini.

"You like my breasts?" she asked without any sign of bashfulness.

They were all that the bikini top had promised, full and firm with long nipples that seemed to be light brown and pinkish at the same time. Her complexion that I had thought to be sun tanned now, with her breasts exposed, I saw to be her true colour, her skin having a golden glow to it.

"They're gorgeous," I said in a stifled voice, " really lovely."

She proceeded to take off her bikini bottoms and once more stood, as if expecting me to examine her. I noticed that her genitals lacked pubic hair, and the furrow of her pudendum was clearly visible and firmly cleft.

She seemed to have the knack of reading my thoughts because she asked, "You do not mind that my pubic hair has been removed?"

"No...no...not at all."

"My husband insisted and since he is the only man to have seen me as you now see me, I do not really know what other men like in that regard."

That really did astound me, and my words were out before I had given myself time to think.

"You mean, there haven't been any other men?"

Her face took on a look that seemed to be somewhere between anger and disappointment. She did not raise her voice but its intensity was made all the more effective for its quietness.

"So that is how you think of me; that I am a slut...a whore who gives herself to any man. Because I am honest with you and tell you what I want you have contempt for me. Perhaps you will be offering me money when you have finished."

"No...no, Amrah, it's just that I'm not used to your frankness, your forthrightness. I don't understand; you could have any man you wanted, so why me, I'm nothing special?"

"Oh but you are special Tony Essex, very special. Now I cannot tell you why you are special but one day I might be able to. But, if you think me a...what is the word...trollop... and that I have many men, then go now, for I would not give myself to a man who despises me."

"God, I'm sorry Amrah, but you're so beautiful and there must have been men who have wanted to..."

"Of course there have, but I have learned how to deter them. Apart from my husband there has been no one until this day, and as I have said, I cannot tell you why now, but one day perhaps I shall. But if you find me cheap and..."

"No Amrah; I don't understand why you want me; I'm bewildered by your openness, but I don't think you're cheap."

She stood staring at me for a moment as if trying to read the sincerity of my words, then as if to affirm her frankness she said, "I stand before you naked, but you have not removed your shorts and shirt, and you have not touched me."

She came close and began to take off my shirt. That I took to mean I had been forgiven.

When I was naked she stepped back and looked at me.

"Yes, you are beautiful Tony Essex, I shall enjoy having your penis in my vagina. You must put much seed into me. I am ready for you and I see you are ready for me. We should not play this time; that can come later; we should enjoy ourselves quickly this time."

She was right about my being ready, and as much as I longed to "play" with her, I knew if we did I might ejaculate long before I ever got my penis into her vagina.